


Just Thinking

by sburbanite



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Dirk's Issues, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Naked Cuddling, Oblivious Jake, POV Dirk Strider, Sad Dirk, Sadstuck, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4940050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sburbanite/pseuds/sburbanite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sad-ish little Dirk/Jake fic from Dirk's perspective, depicting his anxiety issues about being with Jake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Thinking

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [All My Instincts They Return](https://archiveofourown.org/works/605466) by [mostlyharmless](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlyharmless/pseuds/mostlyharmless). 



The light from the distant, vine encrusted windows wakes me, and for a brief second my brain tells me that this can't be real. The swell in my chest when I remember that it is, that I am in fact in Jake English's bed, causes my pulse to race. I'm naked. He is too. I can feel him next to me, not touching but thrillingly close. We haven't done anything, haven't crossed that threshold that makes my heart twist with the anxiety that I'd be forcing him, pressuring him, pushing him, but this is definitely a first for our relationship. 

Last night, when I walked him home from one of our weekend-long tomb-raiding expeditions, he'd given me that goofy little grin of his and asked if I wanted to come inside. If this was one of his dumb movies, he'd have offered me coffee, or in his case a "steaming cup o' joe" or something. But he knows we both hate the taste of it, and unlike usual he didn't ask if I wanted to watch a movie either. He just took my hand and pulled me through the door before I could ask him why he was asking, and if it was OK that I really, really wanted to say yes. 

We'd kissed a few times before, some gentle making-out among the statues in the higher reaches of LOTAK's atmosphere, where we could remove the masks for a few minutes without suffocating. Putting the masks on afterwards had been both a release from the intense pressure of being so close to Jake, and a stab in the heart that he always strapped his back in place so quickly. With our faces covered, it was almost like chatting to him over pesterchum again, both relying on verbal communication without having to worry about our expressions giving us away. Comfortable, easy. Just like old times, but with a bit more flirting from me and the ability to watch the back of Jake's neck turn crimson when I went too far or just far enough. With a mask on, I could control how much of me he saw, keep the bad parts from showing. Keep him safe from the real Dirk. 

This time I knew I wouldn't be able to hide myself away, as he led me over to the bed that serves as a combination couch, sleeping-platform and dinner table. Even with access to an alchemiter, Jake has never been one for interior design. We'd both sat down on it, me staring at the floor while he looked me straight in the pointy eyewear. He'd been nervous when he'd asked if he could take off my shades, something I'd only done in front of him once or twice before. The shake in his lilting accent had given him away. I'd nodded, before letting him remove them carefully, as if he was frightened of breaking them. Or me. When I met his gaze, he'd chuckled, exclaiming that he thought my eyes had been brown or hazel, and that he didn't know people could have orange eyes. 

The tension of us both staring at each other had been too much, and I'd lost some of my normal self control when I'd leant forward and kissed him, hard and passionate. The way I do everything, coming on way too strong. He'd pulled back, explaining: 

"Whoa there, Dirk. Some of us still need access to oxygen, old chap!" 

The embarassment colouring my cheeks had obviously made him feel guilty, because he'd kissed me again, softly, lips pressed against mine but not seeking to deepen things. We'd made-out Jake-style for a while, when I'd felt his hands on my waist, thumbs pushing up under the hem of my shirt. He'd pulled away, smiling, and asked if it was OK if he - I cut him off there, kissing him a little harder than before and shoving one of his hands up underneath the fabric. His touch had made my mind melt until it was soft and liquid. 

When he'd gripped the bottom of my t-shirt, moving it up over my shoulders and head, I'd nearly frozen with disbelief. Jake, adventurous though he is about most things, had been worryingly passive up until now, needing me to make the first move on every occasion. Or putting up with me throwing myself at him, if looked at with my normal pessimism. 

Shirt off, Jake hadn't seemed to know what to do with me. I took his hands and put them on my hips again, letting him choose if he wanted to touch me anywhere else. Please, please let him touch me anywhere else. I'd held my breath while he ran his fingers over my chest, gazing intently at the freckles and the lines of old scars. His smile made what would have been a cripplingly embarrassing examination of my body into one of the proudest moments of my life. When I'd leant in to press my lips on his, trying to exercise some restraint this time, his hands had slid around onto my back, pulling me towards him the way I've been daring to hope he would. He didn't seem to mind me burrowing my hands under his shirt, caressing the muscle underneath. I should probably feel guilty for sending him a robot that would train him to peak physical condition. In hindsight it seems both selfish and transparent, but I didn't give a shit right then. 

When I'd gingerly pushed up his shirt, Jake had started blushing, pink spreading across his tanned face. I'd stopped, leaving it just below his pecs, but he'd just smiled. 

"I didn't say stop, Dirk. All of this attention just has me a bit flustered, that's all. No-one's ever been so intensely focused on me before. It's kinda nice." 

I'd tried to ignore the qualifier in that last sentence, because my nerve was shaky enough to begin with. Eventually, after a few minutes of kissing with our shirts off, I’d had enough courage to push myself against him, flattening him onto the bed. He’d spluttered a little, then laughed at my “Oh Shit” expression. When he’d kissed me that time, I realised my crotch was touching his. There seemed to be a reassuring amount of action going on down there, giving me the confirmation I’d been waiting for for years. Jake was actually physically attracted to me, and the relief had been so great that I’d nearly passed out. 

We’d carried on like that for a while, with me feeling more comfortable around him than I’d ever been. His skin had been soft over firm, firm musculature, the polar opposite of my skinny, wiry frame. I’d wanted to spend forever with his hands in my hair, sharing the same air, so close our hearts felt like they were beating together. Eventually, though, I could tell he was tiring, the embrace turning into a cuddle. When I’d suggested I go, wanting to let him sleep, he’d held on to me tightly. 

“Don’t go, Dirk.” He’d mumbled “This is so nice. I like feeling close to you for once. Why don’t you stay for a sleepover? It’ll be an adventure.” His grin had made my stomach do flips. 

The awkwardness had crept in when Jake had mentioned his sleeping habits. 

“Sorry, Dirk, but would it be terribly poor form if I slept in the altogether? That’s how I normally sleep, and I can’t really sleep any other way. Probably a result of growing up on an island devoid of pyjamas.” 

He’d been blushing like crazy, with me having turned a similar shade. I normally wear boxers in bed, but there was no way I was going to tell Jake that. I’d helped myself to a moment of harmless deception, and it felt fucking incredible. 

“Me too, man. Weird coincidence, huh?” 

Turning off the lights, he’d gotten into bed before slipping off his shorts and underwear, although I couldn’t bring myself to do the same. In the dark, it doesn’t hurt to be a bit of an exhibitionist. I’d stayed on the far side of the bed, not wanting him to feel like he had to touch me. After a few minutes, he’d rolled over and gripped me tightly, hugging me close and breathing deeply into my shoulder. The side of me that was pressed against him had gotten my complete, undivided attention, especially the part interacting with his groin. I’d never been so turned-on until I realised he was already asleep, the breathing turning into soft snores. I was basically a big, naked teddy-bear. 

I can’t say I had a lot of sleep last night. After Jake had finish snuggling his brains out against my stiff, unmoving body, I’d been afraid to touch him. That had resulted in me being shunted to one edge of the mattress, since apparently Jake sleeps like a starfish. Now, awake, I can tell he’s going to be out for a while. It’s early, way too early for English to wake up. I glance around his room, noting that his interests seem to be limited to constructing huge piles of firearms, watching godawful movies, and ogling scantily clad blue women. Women, not dudes. There’s not a single male figure on these walls that isn’t in a shitty poster advertising something terrible. Not for the first time, I start worrying that I’m manipulating him into being with me, that I’ve left him no exit route from my machinations. Much as I’ve been in love with him since we were kids, Jake isn’t the sharpest bullet in the clip. 

Staring at the giant pictures of Neyteri, et. al. is making me extremely conscious of the fact that I’m simultaneously not wearing any pants and probably in possession of the wrong genitalia to be in bed with this boy. Sitting up, I put my head on my knees, trying to crush the anxiety in my chest that I can never be what he needs, that my best is never going to be good enough, that by trying to force him to love me, I’m hurting him. The feeling of his erection pressed against me last night should make me feel better, but all it does is make me wonder if I’ve trapped him on such a deep level, he doesn’t even realise it. 

Jake stirs as I start clutching at my legs, trying to keep the thought that I’m a terrible, horrible manipulator from my mind. It never really goes away, but at least sometimes I can push it deeper. I don’t even notice until his big green eyes are staring up at me, his brow furrowed in confusion. 

“What’s wrong, Dirk? Didn’t you sleep well? I’m sorry if I spread out a little in the night, I’m not used to having company in bed.” 

I smile, trying my best to make it look genuine. His face is very close to the skin of my side, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

“I’m fine, Jake. Just thinking.” 

He rolls his eyes at that, his expression turning exasperated. 

“You’re always thinking, stop thinking so much. There’s nothing to think about, you gosh darned idiot. Come here, it’s freezing in this room, and you’re as cold as an ice cube.” 

He pulls me down, turning me into his little spoon even though I’m at least six inches taller. He’s warm, and I enjoy the sensation of him holding me, even though there’s a conspicuous and disappointing lack of anything poking me in the back.

**Author's Note:**

> A someone who's been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder, it can really mess with your relationships if you don't have an understanding partner. Even then, it sucks for them unless you seek treatment.
> 
> Poor Dirk needs some therapy/medication.


End file.
